Doing the Laundry
by Vol lady
Summary: OK, "doing the laundry" is a euphemism for skinny-dipping, at least between Jarrod and the girl who sees him.


"Doing the Laundry"

Chapter 1

For Jarrod Barkley to strip his clothes off and wade into a cool rush of a stream was not a common occurrence. Usually, he was too refined a man, and often too covered in business suit and tie, to shed the garb and give into the urge to skinny dip when he was traveling alone. But it hadn't rained in ages, and it was hot, and he was in pants, shirt and vest that were the clothes he wore when he was working on the range, not in the courtroom. He was traveling from home to a town a good three days ride away, where there was no railroad or stage access. He was on horseback, he was sweaty and dusty and just couldn't stand the stickiness of it all for another minute, so when he came to that lovely pool of calm water along a nice, wide stream, he gave in. No one else was around. He took off his boots and left them at the edge of the stream. He shed all his clothes, washed them with a bar of soap he'd brought and rinsed them in the water, then spread them out across some bushes near the water, knowing that in this heat and lack of humidity they would dry in less than an hour. Then he eased himself into that cold refreshment. It was waist high at its deepest. He sat down with a sigh where the water was a tad shallower, his head barely above water. He held his breath and dunked himself, planning to wash his face and hair now that it was wet, and then he came up with a big grin on his face as the water dripped down from his hair.

Until he saw her there. She was in work garb herself, jeans and a man's workshirt, and she was beside those bushes he had left his clothes on. She had hold of his pants and was smiling. Jarrod moved to the deeper water and stood up, comfortable that the water would hide his lower half, but terribly uncomfortable that this pretty young stranger had hold of his pants.

She said, "Good morning. I see you've done your laundry."

Jarrod smiled awkwardly. "Yes, I have, and I hope you'll leave them to dry where I put them."

She looked him over, at least his chest and arms and face. She made sure he knew she was evaluating, and that she liked the broad shouldered, muscled chest and arms that she saw. "I guess I'll have to leave the rest to my imagination," she said.

Jarrod laughed awkwardly. "Now, if you intend to run off with my pants, you may not have much imagining to do because I will defend my clothes to the death."

She laughed and laid his pants back down. "My brothers are just over the rise there and one shriek from me will bring them riding over fast, so I wouldn't come out of that stream while I was looking, if I were you."

"Then don't look," Jarrod said.

The girl sat down, still looking. "Your pants aren't dry yet anyway. It won't be long and I'll leave you alone when they are, but it's not often I get a captive audience and I'm told I can talk anybody's ear off."

Jarrod eased himself back up to the shallower water, sitting down again. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Mazie McCord," she said. "Daughter of Joseph McCord and Mary McCord, sister of Joe, Michael and Peter McCord. Our spread is just over the hill. And who would you be?"

"Jarrod Barkley," he said. "I'm traveling from Stockton to Baker City."

"That's a long ride."

"That's why I decided to do my laundry. What brought you over the hill?"

"Well, actually, I was thinking about 'doing my laundry' too, but you beat me to it and I wouldn't think of 'doing my laundry' with yours, because my brothers would shoot you straight away. And you're far too fine-looking a man to have floating dead in the stream in your altogether."

Jarrod couldn't help but laugh. Not because she had flattered him so, but because he had the vision of floating face down in his altogether, or worse yet, face up. "I appreciate your concern for me, but wouldn't it be a lot safer if you went back over that hill for a few minutes and let me get out and get dressed and be on my way?"

"You'd be in wet clothes."

"I'd survive."

"Hmmm…" Mazie said, pretending to think. "No, I think I'll just stay and visit with you for a while. As long as you stay where you are, my brothers won't shoot you if they come along. I won't let them."

"Thanks for the gesture," Jarrod said.

"What are you planning to do in Baker City?"

"I have some business to attend to. My family is selling some land up there."

"Ever been there before?"

"Yes, several times. Have you been there?"

Mazie shook her head. "We don't travel much. I'd like to, but working the ranch takes a lot of time and we don't have a lot of money to hire help, so we all work. My ma takes care of the house, but she told me I was fairly useless at that, so my pa has me working the cattle with my brothers."

"How big is your herd?"

"It changes. Not too big right now, maybe fifty head. With the drought the way it's been, we lost a few. I'm surprised there's still as much water in the stream as there is."

"It surprised me a bit, too," Jarrod said, "but the snow pack in the mountains built up nicely before the drought set in."

"My brothers will be bringing the herd over the hill to water it in another half an hour or so. They said I could have that much time to 'do my laundry.' Are you one of them Stockton Barkleys?"

"I am," Jarrod said. He risked standing up, moving back to where the water would cover his lower half before he stood. He wanted to wash himself a bit and tried to figure out how to do it with Mazie watching. "Do you think you might turn around for a minute or two while I clean myself up a little?"

She turned her head with a grin. "Do you trust me?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," she said.

Jarrod took the chance and washed himself all over as quickly as he could. One more good dunk to rinse his hair and a fast rub of his skin everywhere and he felt at least a little clean. "Want to borrow the soap?" he asked, a touch wickedly, holding the soap up.

"Is it safe to turn around?" Mazie saked.

"Yes."

She turned. Jarrod was standing in the waist-high water, holding a bar of soap in the air. Mazie admired what she was looking at again. "No, I better use the soap I brought with me, but thanks for the offer. You Barkleys are pretty well off, aren't you?"

"So I hear," Jarrod said, tossing the bar of soap onto the shore near the bushes. "I'm a lawyer. I don't do much of the ranching."

"A lawyer! Well, now, I never met a lawyer before. I thought you lawyers were always dressed to the nines and worked in fancy courtrooms."

"Often," Jarrod said, "but I have other business I tend to as well, such as selling this land near Baker City, so I skipped dressing to the nines for this trip."

Mazie unabashedly eyed his chest again. "You look awful muscled for a man who works in a courtroom."

Jarrod laughed awkwardly. "I help out at the ranch, too. How are my clothes coming?"

Mazie got up and took hold of his pants again, to see how dry they were. "Not quite dry yet but you could probably come out and dress if you wanted to."

"Well, I can't come out as long as you're watching me."

"Sad," she said mournfully. "All right. I suppose I can quit talking now and let you get yourself together and be on your way." She started back up from the creek to where her horse stood grazing. "I'll give you ten minutes but then I'll be back over, ready or not," she said over her shoulder.

Jarrod watched from the water as she mounted up and rode over the hill. Once he was sure she wasn't going to turn around for a peek, he made his way out of the water to the bushes that would hide him while he dressed. She was right. His clothes were still a bit damp, but they were tolerable. Jarrod dressed, fetched his bar of soap from the bank of the stream, then packed himself up, mounted his horse, and continued on his way.

He had to pause for a moment in the road and take a look back. He saw Mazie coming back over the hill. She saw him and waved. He smiled and waved back.

XXXXXXX

The trip to Baker City was not good. Jarrod wanted to put it all behind him as fast as he could, once he found the truth – that the Mexican men he planned to meet had been lynched – and once he had uncovered the ugly truth of a horrible lie by an old acquaintance that led to the lynching and the shooting of his friend the sheriff and the bullet through his own arm. He left Baker City with the truth told, but no land sale, and an arm that still ached.

Maybe it was the memory of that nice encounter with Mazie McCord on his way up to Baker City that made him decide that spot in the stream was a good one for another skinny dip. Not that he expected she'd ride up and catch him in his wherewithal in the stream again, but he was hot and tired and his arm ached and it would be nice to have the playful memory back. After Baker City, he needed to smile.

So he found the spot in the stream where he had 'done his laundry' on the way up, shed his boots and clothing again and eased himself into the lovely water. He sat down and enjoyed the coolness, dunking his head again and relishing the water running down his face and back.

"My, my, you surely do need to do your laundry a lot."

Jarrod smiled without opening his eyes at first, recognizing the voice. Then he turned his head and saw her there, sitting on the stream bank not twenty feet away. She looked like she had never left. "Hello," he said. "Am I interrupting your laundering schedule again?"

"Yes," she said, "but it's all right. How did your business in Baker City go?'

He lost the smile. "Very badly, I'm afraid," and he slipped into the deeper water and stood up, covered to the waist again.

She saw the healing wound on his arm. "So I see. That looks like you haven't tended to it."

Jarrod gave it a glance. "I didn't really have time. It's hard for me to see. Does it look that bad?"

"It doesn't look nasty, but it doesn't look happy, either. All right," she said and stood up. "Come out here and put your boots and pants on and let me have a look at that arm."

Mazie stood up and walked back to where her horse was grazing. Jarrod got up out of the water in a way that put the bushes between him and her, and in a few moments had had pulled his pants and boots on. "All right, it's safe," he said.

Mazie came down toward him as he moved toward her from behind the bushes. She admired his chest again, but went straight for that wound in his upper arm. She was carrying a bottle and some cotton. She stopped in front of him and looked critically at his arm. "Hmm," she said. "You haven't done anything at all to tend this, have you?"

"I thought it was taking care of itself," Jarrod said.

Mazie opened the bottle and put the top of it into Jarrod's hand, saying, "Here, hold this."

She dampened some cotton and cleaned the wound with it. Jarrod said, "Ow!"

"It would be healing faster if you tended to it, but no, you men have to be so brave," she said. ""'It's just a scratch! It'll take care of itself!"" she said, mimicking the men in her life.

Jarrod had to laugh, remembering he had said those exact words to the way station man who offered to give him some astringent, which he turned down. "How bad does it look?" he asked, not really concerned.

"It's healing over, just not very fast," Mazie said. She took the bottle top back from Jarrod and screwed it back onto the bottle. Then she looked him up and down and sighed. "I hate to say this, given how nice the view is, but you best be putting your shirt back on before my brothers turn up."

Jarrod fetched his shirt and vest from the bushes and started to pull them back on. "Did you tell them about the last time we 'did our laundry'?" he asked.

"No," Mazie said. "I thought it was best to keep quiet about it, and now that you're back again, I can see I made a good decision."

Riders suddenly appeared on the hill. Jarrod saw them first, then Mazie followed his gaze. "Are those your brothers?" Jarrod asked and donned his vest.

"Yes, they are," she said.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not if I can talk smooth enough," Mazie said.

In a moment, her three brothers came riding down. They all looked to be her age or younger, and the two youngest ones looked to be identical twins. "Is this fella bothering you, Mazie?" the oldest brother asked.

"No, I just saw he had a hurt arm, so I dabbed at it for him," Mazie said.

Jarrod gave a glance to his horse, about fifty feet away. His gun belt was hanging from the horn of his saddle. He wished he had put it with his clothes at the bushes.

"Who are you, Mister?" the same brother asked.

"Jarrod Barkley," Jarrod said. "Just heading home to Stockton from Baker City."

"How'd you come to see his arm was hurt, Mazie?" one of the younger boys asked.

"He had his shirt off," she said plainly as she returned her supplies to her saddlebag. "Was washing up. It looked kinda unhappy, so I doctored it for him."

The brothers still looked unhappy themselves. Jarrod couldn't blame them. He was glad they did not seem to know about either time their sister caught him with his clothes on the bushes.

"Why don't you come on over the hill and share a bite with us, Mr. Barkley?" Mazie asked, looking at her brothers, knowing they would not protest even if they wanted to.

"Thank you," Jarrod said. He was intrigued by Mazie, and now by her brothers, too. Curiosity was getting the better of him. "I think I will."

The brothers all headed back up the hill. Mazie mounted up and so did Jarrod, and in a moment they were riding over the hill, too.

Jarrod saw a fairly small herd down below, all unattended until Mazie's brothers rode up to them again. Mazie pulled up at a spot underneath a tree where Jarrod could see a fire had been built at least once before and where several logs and a canvas bag lay on the ground. Mazie dismounted and in moments was starting a fire. "Come on, Mr. Barkley," she said. "I'll have some coffee ready soon and then I hope you don't mind a little beef and bread for lunch."

"Not at all," Jarrod said, dismounting but keeping his eye on the brothers, who were keeping an eye on him as they got some strays back to the herd. "How can I help you?"

"Well," Mazie said and pointed out to where a few more strays were easing away from the herd. "How are you at herding cattle?"

Jarrod smiled. "I've done my share."

"Help my brothers out and you'll be friends for life."

Jarrod remounted and headed for the strays Mazie's brothers hadn't gotten to yet.

As he helped getting the cattle back together, Jarrod caught glimpses now and then of Mazie getting food together, and the brothers herding the cattle, and of them all checking on him now and then, too. He wondered for a moment how he got himself into this family get-together here, but he could see in a matter of minutes the brothers were accepting him. They weren't watching him work for long. It looked like he was slipping right into the swing of things the way the McCords swung them.

Before long, Mazie stood and waved her hand high over her head, the signal for her brothers to come in for food. Jarrod followed them in. Mazie handed out beef sandwiches and coffee, and Jarrod sat down on one of the logs, beside her oldest brother. As they ate, the man beside Jarrod asked, "How come you to hurt your arm?"

"Bullet," Jarrod said. "I was after someone who a fellow I knew said killed his wife, and someone shot me. Then in the end it turned out his wife wasn't dead at all. She had left him. Turns out it was the fellow I knew who shot me, trying to stop me from finding out the truth."

"What happened to the fella?" one of the twins asked.

"Someone shot him," Jarrod said. "The story's over now, except for my arm."

"What were you doin' up this way?" the other twin asked.

"Coming back from Baker City," Jarrod said. "Stopped by the creek there." He changed the subject. "You've got a nice spread here, looks like your pasture down there is getting some water from somewhere."

The oldest brother glanced at the fairly green grass. "Yeah, we get some runoff down there from the mountains. Not a stream but enough to keep the grass greener than most. You got a fairly big spread down Stockton way, so I hear."

"Pretty big," Jarrod agreed. "My brothers do most of the ranching. I'm a lawyer."

"A lawyer!" the twins said in unison.

"Well, now we know where to go when you two end up in jail again," the oldest brother said.

"Again?" Jarrod asked.

"A little tussle on a neighboring ranch a few months ago," the oldest brother said. "Nothing much but for a while there we were worried these two were gonna leave us high and dry for a while."

"Well," Jarrod said, "you can find me on the Barkley ranch at Stockton. Give a yell if you need me. I'll give you a good price."

They ate and chatted for about twenty minutes. Mazie let the men talk among themselves, saying nothing, which intrigued Jarrod since when they first met, Mazie said she could talk your ear off. Finally, the oldest brother got up, saying, "I guess you'll be heading on home now, huh, Mr. Barkley?"

Jarrod could take a hint. "I expect so. I still have two day's riding to go and I'd like to trim it to a day and a half by sunset."

"Glad for the help," the oldest brother said, and he and the twins got up and went back to their horses."

Jarrod finished his coffee and got up as well. Mazie stood up with him. "Thanks for talking with my brothers for a while," she said. "You might not get shot the next time they see you 'doing your laundry.'"

Jarrod chuckled. "Thanks for the sandwich and the coffee. It was a lot better than the beans I had planned."

Mazie smiled at him. "Maybe I'll see you the next time you head for Baker City."

"You never know," Jarrod said. "I may need to 'do my laundry' again.'"

"Well, if you do," Mazie said, "I'll be happy to guard your pants for you."

Jarrod couldn't keep the twinkle out of his eye, or the tingle out of the rest of him. He took Mazie's hand and kissed it. "I'll count on that," he said.

Jarrod went to his horse then and mounted up. He gave an elaborate wave to Mazie's brothers, who were staring his way. Then he gave and more gentle wave to Mazie and took off.

And he wondered how soon he could arrange to go back to Baker City. He didn't mind that it was a long way to go to "do his laundry."

The End


End file.
